m both with open arms; Sir Percy was rich,
his wife was accomplished, the Prince of Wales took a very great liking
to them both. Within six months they were the acknowledged leaders of
fashion and of style. Sir Percy's coats were the talk of the town, his
inanities were quoted, his foolish laugh copied by the gilded youth at
Almack's or the Mall. Everyone knew that he was hopelessly stupid, but
then that was scarcely to be wondered at, seeing that all the Blakeneys
for generations had been notoriously dull, and that his mother died an
imbecile.

Thus society accepted him, petted him, made much of him, since his
horses were the finest in the country, his FETES and wines the most
sought after. As for his marriage with "the cleverest woman in Europe,"
well! the inevitable came with sure and rapid footsteps. No one pitied
him, since his fate was of his own making. There were plenty of young
ladies in England, of high birth and good looks, who would have been
quite willing to help him to spend the Blakeney fortune, whilst
smiling indulgently at his inanities and his good-humoured foolishness.
Moreover, Sir Percy got no pity, because he seemed to require none--he
seemed very proud of his clever wife, and to care little that she took
no pains to disguise that good-natured contempt which she evidently felt
for him, and that she even amused herself by sharpening her ready wits
at his expense.

But then Blakeney was really too stupid to notice the ridicule with
which his wife covered him, and if his matrimonial relations with the
fascinating Parisienne had not turned out all that his hopes and his
dog-like devotion for her had pictured, society could never do more than
vaguely guess at it.

In his beautiful house at Richmond he played second fiddle to his clever
wife with imperturbable BONHOMIE; he lavished jewels and luxuries of
all kinds upon her, which she took with inimitable grace, dispensing the
hospitality of his superb mansion with the same graciousness with which
she had welcomed the intellectual coterie of Paris.

Physically, Sir Percy Blakeney was undeniably handsome--always
excepting the lazy, bored look which was habitual to him. He was always
irreproachable dressed, and wore the exaggerated "Incroyable" fashions,
which had just crept across from Paris to England, with the perfect
good taste innate in an English gentleman. On this special afternoon in
September, in spite of the long journey by coach, in spite of